


Titans

by suerum



Category: General Hospital, Zombieland (2009)
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suerum/pseuds/suerum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The expected occurs when Tallahassee and Jason Morgan cross paths in the Zombieland universe followed shortly by the unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Titans

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story a long time ago and just got around to finishing it up. It actually diverged quite a bit from my original intentions when first writing it but, then again, stories will do that to you!

“Let him go!” His voice was a hoarse growl, his eyes a narrowed icy blue. The silver gun in his hand was unwavering.

“Or what?” The other man turned his head and spat contemptuously onto the asphalt. “You’ll shoot me? Well you go right ahead honcho but I betcha you that before the bullet gets anywhere close to here, I’ll have twisted this ‘un’s head clear off his neck.”

Jason swallowed, sweat was pouring down into his eyes but he couldn’t even blink in case something might occur in that millisecond of visual absence. “Look,” he tried to backtrack to make himself sound more agreeable. If he could just get this asshole to loosen his grip on Spinelli for an instant, he would blow his head away like a ripe watermelon. “This is stupid. We’re all in this mess together and it doesn’t make any sense to fight amongst ourselves. We’re not the enemy.” It was the closest to a plea he could get.

The tall man in the snakeskin coat, cowboy boots and hat sniggered at Jason’s rationale, “Try that line of reasoning with some of those brain dead fuckers out there buckaroo. I happen to know better. For me it’s a clear cut case of us against everyone else.”

Jason caught a sudden flash of movement in his peripheral vision. He spun on his heel and, by kicking out his leg, managed to off balance the curly-haired young man who was ineffectually trying to shoot at him with a sawed off shotgun. His assailant landed on his ass with a groan of pain and the gun slipped out of his uncertain grasp. Immediately, Jason crouched down next to him and placed the muzzle of his own gun with brutal force against his left temple.

“Well, is this enough us to get your attention?” He rasped out at the other man, gratified that the playing field was suddenly leveled.

“Fuck it, Columbus!” The man holding Spinelli hostage groaned, “I had this, I fucking had this!”

The youth sprawled next to Jason shrugged his shoulders apologetically, he was visibly trembling. “Thought I could take him,” he mumbled miserably. 

“You idiotic little spit-fuck,” the other man mourned, “You couldn’t take out a rabid bunny rabbit, never mind this guy. Goddamnit!”

“Enough!” Jason shouted, his temper visibly wearing thin, “I want you to let my friend go now or I’ll…” He just let the threat dangle.

“Would he do it, d’you think?” The man spoke into Spinelli’s ear, his breath was hot and he sounded worried. 

“Would you?” Spinelli murmured as he squirmed against the slightly loosening of the iron grip of his captor’s forearm pressing uncomfortably against his trachea. He looked up at the stranger, his green eyes candidly inquiring.

The older man sighed, “Naw, he’s right. There ain’t enough of us left to go around indiscriminately killing each other. I just wanted him to give up that gun of his.” 

“Well, Stone Cold is of the same mind. So, if you let me go then he’ll release your friend as well. I am assured of it.” The hacker spoke with a quiet confidence. 

“Hey!” Jason’s voice cut across their hushed dialogue. “I said let him go.” He ground the muzzle into the fragile skin overlaying the boy’s skull, eliciting a whimper of pain, “Now!”

“You best do as he says,” Spinelli stuttered, slightly alarmed at Jason’s loss of control. “I stand surety that my Master will keep his word.”

“I don’t fucking like it, but okay.” He grumbled as he fully released the choke hold and gave Spinelli a sharp shove forward. “You tell him to let Columbus go, you hear?” They were his parting words as the boy stumbled away from him, weaving unsteadily down the center line of the pavement.

“Stone Cold,” he called out, anxious to fulfill his part of the bargain, “I told the Ramboesque one that you would honor the arrangement and release ah…Mr. Columbus, as soon as my own freedom was attained.”

“I got a gun on his back the whole way,” the other man yelled, his tone grim with warning. 

“You okay?” Jason called out as he stood, dragging his hostage up by his hoodie and keeping his weapon firmly trained on him. 

“Affirmative, Stone Cold, the Jackal is unharmed.” Spinelli was almost to Jason and the other boy. As he drew near, he tilted his head toward Columbus and shot a quizzical glance toward his mentor. 

Jason grunted, his eyes glinting with fury, but he relinquished his grip on the young man’s shirt. “Get outta here,” he commanded in a voice that made it clear the alternative to obeying wasn’t to be considered. 

Columbus stood there for a moment, looking dazed under the glare of the desert sun, until a harsh voice rang down the road, “What are you waiting for spit-fuck? Get your skinny ass down here now or you’re going to think that was a Club Med vacation you just took.” With that brusque admonition, the boy started toward the other man, his gait uncoordinated and awkward.

“Charming,” Jason said under his breath, as he stepped closer to Spinelli and gazed at him intently. “He didn’t hurt you, right?” He scanned the boy’s face carefully, looking for any telltale bruises or marks. His face tightened when he saw Spinelli rubbing at the reddened band of flesh across his throat, marking the spot where their adversary had held him against his will. “I’ll kill him,” he snarled. His eyes flashed with undiluted rage as he hefted his gun and started back along the road to where the other two men stood.

“Let me see that!” Tallahassee demanded as Columbus came to a shambling stop in front of him. He tilted the boy’s head up and gazed wrathfully at the circle of bruised flesh that was rapidly darkening. “That fucking bastard,” he hissed, his fist clenching in anger. He reached down to the ground and grabbed a pickaxe from a duffel bag laying there. “Nobody but me lays a hand on you boy!” He declared, stalking down the road where he was fiercely overjoyed to see Jason striding to meet him. 

“Stone Cold!” Spinelli darted after his determined mentor. “We have just successfully defused one fraught confrontation must you initiate another?”

“He marked you, Spinelli and threatened to kill you. I can’t just overlook that.” Jason never moved his eyes from Tallahassee as he drew ever closer.

“Surely the score was evened by you doing the same actions to the Ramboesque one’s own protégé.” Spinelli continued his futile argument.

“Hey, Tallahassee,” Columbus trotted next to his traveling companion, his head aching where Jason had bruised it. “Look, these guys aren’t zombies. Can’t you just call it quits and we’ll go our separate ways?” 

“Uh huh,” Tallahassee spoke tersely as he shook his head and spit on the pavement, his face was grim. “He used unnecessary violence against you and that ain’t allowed to stand.”

“Well, he seems to feel the exact same way,” Columbus said tartly as he glanced at the approaching duo. “Wouldn’t it be the better part of valor if someone just was the bigger man and refused to fight?”

Tallahassee stopped dead and squinted at the boy in disbelief. “I must have wax in my ears or something, because I did not just hear you suggesting I turn tail and run, now did I?” 

He was glaring at him. Columbus swallowed uneasily as he decided he would rather Florida’s bile be directed toward the other man who looked like he could handle himself. Feebly he flapped his hand toward the two strangers. “Have at it,” he said weakly and just stood there watching as Tallahassee continued on his inexorable path.

“Get out of the way,” Jason said quietly to Spinelli as his challenger stopped only a few feet away.

Spinelli was about to protest, to continue in his attempts to persuade Jason from the foolishness of what was, to all intents and purposes, a duel. It was idiotic to spend their time fighting amongst themselves when there were more than enough zombies out there able to absorb their naked aggression.

“Do as he says little spit-fuck,” Tallahassee spoke almost kindly to a bemused Spinelli who couldn’t quite comprehend the odd nickname. “When I’m done wiping the pavement with your friend-what was it, Stone Cold-here, you can come along with Columbus and me. No hard feelings.” He was munificent in his offer to adopt Spinelli.

“Um,” Spinelli stammered, not having expected such an offer, “The Jackal thanks the Ramboesque one for his proposal of succor but it is neither desired nor required.”

“What he’s trying to say, in words that you can understand,” Jason said harshly, giving an impervious Tallahassee his best Stone Cold glower, “Is that first of all, don’t you ever call him that again and second, when this…” he gestured at the air in-between them,” Is over, we’ll be glad to take Columbus along with us.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Tallahassee drawled, entirely unperturbed by Jason’s threat. “Still, it seems a mite unfair you standing there with a gun and little ole’ me with nothing more than this.” He hefted the pick axe casually to underscore his point.

“Leave now!” Jason hissed at Spinelli, needing to save all his attention for the fight that was about to begin.

Reluctantly, Spinelli complied with the command as he shuffled off to the side of the road and stood next to Columbus. “I fear this shall not end well,” he said morosely to his companion.

Columbus nodded his head vigorously in agreement and then closed his eyes in pain, “Ouch,” he said, delicately running his fingers over the bruised area on his temple. “That really hurts,” he continued in a whining tone, “Did that Neanderthal friend of yours have to be so brutal? I have delicate skin that bruises easily. Never mind that I probably have a subdural hematoma which is bleeding into my brain as we speak.” He looked up into the cloudless afternoon sky and pointed to some large birds sailing on thermal currents in the distance, “They’ll probably be feeding on my carcass by nightfall.” 

Spinelli looked at Columbus with amazement, “It’s not as though the Ramboesque one was precisely delicate in his handling of the Jackal,” he rubbed his hand over the bruises on his own neck, “I almost fainted from the lack of air inflow several times, and it’s well known fact that any blockage of the flow of oxygen to the brain can be deleterious to one’s mental capacity. 

Columbus turned toward Spinelli, his hands on his hips as he sneered at him, “Oh, yes, let’s get all lathered up over what Tallahasse did to you, which was just a simple matter of restraint, whereas that muscle bound cretin was getting ready to blow my brains to kingdom come!”

Outraged, Spinelli stepped toward Columbus and, reaching out, jabbed him in the chest with a stiffened forefinger, “Stone Cold is no cretin, he is actually extremely intelligent, albeit somewhat emotionally stunted.” 

Columbus laughed satirically as he backed away from Spinelli’s intrusive finger. “Stone Cold, that is a great moniker, I gotta say. Why can’t there be any people with refinement and intelligence left in this fucked up void of civilization?” He spread his arms wide and appealed to the indifferent sky. “Preferably girls who smell nice,” he added as a pensive afterthought.

“Indeed,” agreed Spinelli, his tone was ice cold and his eyes glittered with dark intensity, “It’s a pity that the only personages,” his voice dripped with disdain, “that Stone Cold and I have so far encountered in this apocalyptic landscape, have been a southern redneck, whose intelligence quotient probably doesn’t match the numerical value of the waist size of his pants, and his extremely shrill and pusillanimous companion!”

Columbus’s eyebrows crept up toward his hairline as he squeaked out, “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me,” Spinelli said, once again moving toward the other young man, his fists bunched up and held rigidly at either side of his body, “Oh, wait, perhaps you didn’t comprehend the verbiage I employed.” He stopped and bowed his head ironically, “My most fulsome apologies.” He paused for a moment and then resumed speaking, saying each word slowly and clearly, “I said that your friend is an idiot and that you are, in fact, a whiny coward.”

“That’s it!” Columbus shrieked, as he charged at Spinelli, his sudden attack catching the other boy off guard. Columbus barreled into Spinelli, his forward momentum pitching both of them down the embankment on the side of the road. The two of them rolled around in the graveled dirt at the bottom of the shallow hill while Columbus punched ineffectually at Spinelli.

Columbus’s face was a mottled red, as he panted out “I can’t believe I tried to go to bat with Tallahassee for the two of you. I should have just let him dismember you both and we could have gone on our merry way.”

Spinelli reached up between Columbus’s flailing arms and, with a desperate shove, managed to push him onto the ground. He sat up, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and rocks, before suddenly lunging at Columbus and landing on top of him. Once more the two of them struggled with one another, this time with Spinelli on top.

Spinelli reached down and wrapped both his hands around the other boy’s neck and began to squeeze. Breathlessly, he spoke, “Let me demonstrate, solely for comparative purposes, what it felt like to be in the vise-like grip of that behemoth you call a mentor.”

Columbus’s eyes were watering and he clawed frantically at Spinelli’s unyielding arms as he begged, “Stop…can’t…breathe….”

“Spinelli! Let him go!” Jason was speaking directly into his ear as he reached down and one by one pried his fingers away from Columbus’s neck. 

Columbus lay on the ground gasping, while Jason held onto Spinelli, who struggled within his restraining arms, as he attempted to renew his attack. There was a sudden fall of pebbles and dirt as Tallahassee slithered down the embankment and ran over to Columbus. He lifted the boy up into his lap, his bulk casting a shadow over the younger man. 

“Are you okay, Columbus?” He asked anxiously as he shifted his position and lifted his protégé up in an effort to aid his uneven breathing.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Columbus croaked as he cautiously ran his right hand across the surface of his throat. “Man that really hurt,” he said crankily looking over at Spinelli who was breathing with almost as much difficulty as Columbus himself. “Jeez, what’d you go and do that for?”

It was too much effort too soon and Columbus began coughing, making a series of harsh, hacking sounds that renewed Tallahassee’s anxiety level as he waited for the fit to abate. Meanwhile, Spinelli began to spontaneously shake as the adrenalin in his system suddenly began to fade. 

Jason tightened his grip on him and whispered soothingly, “Take it easy, Spinelli, I’ve got you.”

The four of them sat quietly for a while as the late afternoon sun began to dip toward the jagged edges of the distant mountains to the west. A dry breeze sprang up and evaporated the sweat on the men’s bodies causing them to feel slightly chilled. Somewhere a hawk screeched a high, piercing noise that sounded eerie in the surrounding silence.

“I’m sorry,” Spinelli spoke first, his face was tight with some unspecified emotion but there was no mistaking the contrition in his tone, “The Jackal lost his equanimity and lashed out in a most despicable way and for that he humbly apologizes.”

Spinelli was surprised to discover that Jason was still holding him and he felt inexpressibly comforted by realization. “I behaved badly,” he muttered in a low voice that only his mentor could hear.

Jason responded by giving him a comforting squeeze and saying quietly, “I think you were overdue for a meltdown considering everything we’ve been going through.” 

“It’s okay,” Columbus spoke in a gravel edged voice, “I wasn’t exactly the voice of reason myself, I guess.” He sighed and leaned tiredly back into Tallahassee’s supportive bulk.

“Well, I just don’t get it, do you, PC?” Tallahassee inquired genially of Jason. “I mean here we are in the middle of a god damned Armageddon of all things, and these two spit-fucks are choosin’ to fight it out ‘mongst themselves. I don’t know why they can’t just have a civilized getting to know one another conversation instead like we did. Stupidest thing I’ve ever seen and I know stupid.”

“You can say that again,” Columbus muttered in a hoarse whisper.

“You say something to me, Columbus?” Tallahassee asked in a quiet voice that put one in mind of a cobra coiled to strike.

“Nope,” Columbus said nervously as he scooted away from Tallahassee. He tried to push himself up from the ground but fell back down in a boneless heap.

Tallahassee gave a martyred sigh and, standing up, stalked over to Columbus, pulling him upright by the hood on his sweatshirt. “Okay, we can’t stand around here chit-chatting the night away. We gotta get on the road, I feel like this is gonna be my week to get it.”

Spinelli and Jason also arose and, as Spinelli dusted the dirt off his jeans, he whispered to Columbus, “It’s his week to get what?”

“Zombie kill of the week,” Columbus replied in a raspy tone, “Tallahassee’s been saying it’s his week to get it ever since we’ve been hanging together.”

“Oh, that,” Spinelli said dismissively, “Stone Cold has won at least five times and he doesn’t even bother to enter. I do it for him.”

“Five times,” Tallahassee’s voice was emotionless, he stood on the edge of the road and stared at Jason in the thickening twilight, “What did you do that was so special you won zombie kill of the week five times?”

Spinelli and Columbus looked nervously at each other and then back at their respective mentors. The only ambient sound was the gentle soughing of the desert wind

Jason shrugged indifferently, “I don’t remember, you kill one, you kill another one, they’re all the same.”

Tallahassee didn’t say a word, he just stared contemplatively at the distant mountains which were dark shapes limned against a star dazzled sky. After a few moments, he gave a sudden bark of laughter. Walking over to Jason, he slung an arm over his shoulder.

“PC, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. You’re quite the kidder, ain’t you? Saying one zombie kill is like another. Why that’s about as far from the truth as a fella can get. Killing zombies ain’t a job, it’s a craft and that’s why I try never to use the same tool twice. I even took one down with a knitting needle once.”

Jason looked calmly at Tallahassee. He reached over and plucked his arm up and moved away from the unsolicited embrace. “I just shoot them,” he said, “I don’t need to be fancy about keeping me and Spinelli alive.”

Undaunted by the rebuff, Tallahassee just chuckled and started to walk toward his Humvee, “Yep, you and me are going to be best friends, PC, I can feel it in my bones.”

With a sigh of exasperation, Jason said, “I keep telling you, my name is Jason.”

“Nope, we call each other by location not Christian given names,” Tallahassee spoke firmly, “Which reminds me, where are you from, spit-fuck?”

Spinelli belatedly realized that Tallahassee was addressing him, “Uh, I lived in Port Charles as well.”

“Nope, that won’t fly,” Tallahassee was adamant, “You got relatives from someplace else mebbe?”

“Tennessee, my grandmother lived there,” Spinelli was both exhausted and dazed by the unexpected turn of events which had introduced this odd duo into his and Jason’s world.

“Tennessee,” Tallahassee rolled the word around in his mouth experimentally, “Yeah, I like it just fine. Okay, let’s go spit-fucks, pile into the Humvee. The night’s awasting.” 

Jason stood where he was, it was too dark for Spinelli to see his face, but his arms were crossed and the boy could feel irritation rolling off him in waves. Spinelli was extremely familiar with the sensation but the novelty lay in the fact that Jason’s ire wasn’t directed at him this time.

“My name is Jason, his name is Spinelli not Tennessee and, sure as hell, not spit-fuck. We will be traveling in our own SUV.” Jason spoke in a flat voice which brooked no argument. “Spinelli and I would be happy for either of you to travel with us or for the two vehicles to travel in convoy with one another.”

Columbus stood next to Spinelli, his throat felt raw but he didn’t hold it against the other boy. In truth he liked him a lot, he wanted, no needed a friend. Plaintively, he said, “Tallahassee, please.”

Tallahassee reached over his shoulder and reflectively scratched his neck, “You sure drive a hard bargain there, PC. Still, since Columbus wants the two of you to come along, I guess we go with the convoy plan. Just don’t expect us to wait up for you.”

His boats clicking on the pavement, Tallahassee walked over to his Humvee and, climbing in, started the motor and turned the lights on. He yelled through the open window, “Get your ass over here, spit-fuck, if you wanna ride shotgun.”

Columbus grinned at Spinelli, his eyes sparkling in the starlight, “See you at the next stop, Tennessee.” He ran toward the Humvee and called back over his shoulder, “You too, PC!”

Jason grunted and started toward the black SUV parked further down the road, “Do they have an award for killing an egotistical, overbearing zombie hunter?” He asked Spinelli, who just smiled to himself and said nothing.


End file.
